A belated post in honor of Gina, my travel companion in fair China. I never thought I'd be calling it fair China before I went there, but I really did enjoy visiting China immensely. A lot of that is thanks to Gina, but a lot of that is thanks to China, too.
I'm sitting in my new(ish) apartment in South Philly. After work and coffee with friends, I sat for awhile in Rittenhouse Square reading. It's one of those days where it feels like I am really doing what I want, though not all my days are like that. Anyway, an old man sat next to me and started talking to me about books and traveling. I started feeling like I need to write down some reminiscences about China before I get old and forget them. Here are some of them, distorted by the mirror of months at home. But the mind is always a carnival mirror, isn't it? You just hope it's not the kind that makes you look short and fat.
I'm going to try to keep this short(ish) for each place, since we went to so many in our short (and long) three weeks there.
1. Beijing
Beijing has a surprising amount of good, flaky pastry. Gina and I started the very good habit of just getting into any long food line we found on the street, and we ate some great pastry that way. There was also a shockingly long line for sunflower seeds. (We dutifully got in line, but bought nuts instead.) Gina and I went to a hot pot restaurant where you cook your own food in boiling hot water. We totally failed at making our meal delicious, but all the other patrons seemed to be having better luck. The best meal we had in Beijing was Peking duck at a restaurant I was later dismayed to find out is a big-time chain. It was the best I've ever had, nonetheless. They carve your duck tableside and give you a small slice of the crispy skin to sample before you dig in, almost like tasting a fine wine before they pour your full glass. They also number their ducks, and I mailed my parents the complimentary postcard that said I had tried duck number whatever. Beijing has a surprising number of beautiful and quiet parks. At least in the places we went, it is not loud, nor is it crowded. I was surprised by that. There are great car-protected bike lanes, if you're into that. We stayed at a hostel that was in an old courtyard-style house, which was beautiful but very cold. I regret rushing through the Forbidden City because we were too damn cold to enjoy it, but I hope to go back someday. Neither of us had proper winter clothing--not surprising for backpackers coming directly from a tropical country--so we tended to wear all the clothes we had, all the time. We made friends with an English-speaking cafe proprietor who had her nails painted in a cow pattern, with the thumbs being the cow heads.
2. The Great Wall
Wonderful. Surprisingly up-and-down aerobic. Shockingly crumbly in places. We went to one of the more ancient sections, which was less touristed for being over 3 hours away from Beijing. Gina is afraid of stairs, it turns out, which made the wall terrifying for her at moments. But that girl has the heart of a lion and laughed her way through it. A bitingly cold north wind gave us the gift of smog-free views here and in Beijing proper, but nearly killed us.
--Cheap, amazing high speed train ride that puts America to shame and makes me think we probably, maybe are doomed--
3. Shanghai
A beautiful, European oasis in China. Our first night, we stayed at a hostel and took ourselves on a self-guided dumpling walking tour. Oh, the street dumplings of Shanghai! The best was a halal dumpling that tasted like Indian food and Chinese food and Middle Eastern food all in one hot street dumpling dripping with beef in a bright yellow sauce inside. We also ducked into a tiny wonton soup shop where the owners were making mountains of dumplings by hand right there. The soup was incredible, the dumplings light and delicate, and we couldn't have been more smugly self-satisfied for finding such a non-touristy joint. We took in the skyline at night and avoided being scammed by young "English students" who offered to take our picture and ultimately wanted to lure us into overpriced tea shops. Gina scammed the scammers with aplomb, however, and held them up for a good ten minutes while cheerily taking their picture with their camera, commanding them to take all different cheesy poses before we walked away unscathed. Genius. We also took in a beautiful, if overwhelming, art museum that had everything from ancient pottery that boggled the mind in its intricate detail to simple brush drawings of mountain scenes. I instantly regretted my absolutely zero knowledge of Asian art and art history, and hope to learn more. (Theme of this trip: Liz realizes she has huge gaps in her knowledge about many fascinating things. Then realizes how many fascinating things there are out there that she didn't even know she didn't know. Gets overwhelmed, resolves to learn, maybe someday will.)
The next day, we met our lovely Nordic Couchsurfing host in a Frenchified cafe in the Frenchified French Concession. (Must learn more about Shanghai's history.) He was very kind and introduced us to his amazing local friends, an artist and a businesswoman, who both spoke impeccable English. We visited the artist's vintage shop--she was definitely way cooler than I could ever aspire to be--and went to a delightful (if touristy) alleyway district full of western delights, including mulled wine, which we sampled with delight. We also had some leftover homemade dumpling soup, courtesy of the businesswoman's cooking skills, in the artist's cluttered apartment. We went out to a Belgian beer bar and a lucha-libre-themed margarita place. In the morning, our host took us to the most delicious street breakfast--and perhaps the most delicious breakfast, period, according to Gina--we've ever had. It was basically just a scallion pancake with some crunchy element and something like hoisin sauce, but I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. We walked through different neighborhoods of Shanghai and marveled at the big department stores and marvelously tacky Christmas displays in stores and on streets. With the help of our host, we succeeded in a hotpot-like enterprise. It was a soup place where you select your ingredients from something like the shelves where they keep lettuce in American grocery stores and then it's added to a delicious broth they cook for you. We also went to a wine bar and a jazz club and a cafe that served tiramisu and an organicy, local foody, fresh-baked bread place for lunch one day. I don't even like places like that last one that much at home, but it was heaven to go there in Asia. It was all like a wonderful respite from the East and its oddities and confusions and challenging surprises--but with the delicious and authentic dumplings still included. I don't know how much I would like Shanghai if I traveled all the way there from home, but I loved it in this context. I can't tell you how bone-tired I was of being out of my element, not knowing how things like bathrooms and trains and buses worked, not being able to find comforts I was used to from home.
--A long bus ride that ended with what I thought was a very early dusk but was just a huge cloud of smog that made me think maybe, actually, it's China that's doomed--
4. Suzhou
Yet another "Venice of the East!" Gina and I stayed in a hostel in the old part of town where we heard rats crawling in the walls but ignored it. We walked around the nice canal streets full of red lanterns. I enjoyed it, but the whole thing had a bit of an artificial, over-preserved feel. We attended a Peking opera performance, which was unintentionally hilarious. The singing, with its peaks and valleys of rises and falls in pitch, was bewildering and painful to my uneducated ear. The story was lost on us, despite the translation efforts of our middle-aged Chinese businessman seat mate. We had a dumpling soup breakfast--served with vinegar that we decided to just throw on in--at a little outdoor stall-type place in an alley. The other patrons seemed to be locals, and a cute baby and cute dog were in attendance. Everyone seemed to kind of be laughing at us and/or resenting us for being there, but we enjoyed our soup.
We visited "The Lingering Garden," which got me all fired up for Chinese gardens. I overuse the word "beautiful" in this blog, but it truly was, especially with fall foliage. Why do you only hear about Japanese gardens? Why do I always like places that are beautifully simple, yet fill my own life with clutter? I must stop here because I don't have the heart to select pictures to go along with this, yet I know I must. Another time I'll add pics and keep writing about all our other lovely China destinations.
Thursday 4 September 2014
Tuesday 25 March 2014
Burmese Days
Better late than never.
Readers, I'm going to confess to you a weird hang-up I developed. At first I was too overwhelmed to write about my post-grant travels because I was so excited to be home and it was Christmas and I was running around seeing family and friends. Then, when things calmed down a bit, I started to feel like there was too much to write and that it would be an overwhelming task. Then I started thinking that maybe I should wait to write this until I had a full-time job lined up. I don't know why, but it became a weird talismanic way of thinking. I'm happy to report that I start a full-time job next week, so I decided to finally stop putting off writing this. It's going to have to be a whirlwind overview, though I'm sure I'll still find places to be longwinded.
Let's make this part 1: Burma.
I went to Burma by myself for 5 days. I was only able to visit one area called Inle Lake, which is quite heavily-touristed. To get there from Rangoon/Yangon, though, I took a breathtakingly scenic train ride that took over 24 hours. For most of the trip, I was the only tourist aboard the train. For one leg of the trip, I sat next to a kindhearted engineer who spoke limited English but was still eager to talk to me and to help me order from the shockingly good onboard dining service. He smiled at me with disconcertingly beet-red teeth from chewing betel nuts and asked me if I knew who the woman pictured in his open newspaper was. I knew it was Aung San Suu Kyi, but I feigned ignorance out of paranoia about being lured into a political discussion in an infamously repressive country. All he said to me was, "It's Aung San Suu Kyi. This woman is our heart. The Burmese people, she is our heart." Later, I met a restaurant owner who had posters of Aung San Suu Kyi hanging on his walls. He told me that he felt he could express himself more freely in his country now, and that he'd been imprisoned in the past for being involved in pro-democracy groups. He said I was lucky that I could travel and say whatever I wanted. He said he thought America was a good country (a very rare opinion to encounter on my travels). He confided in me that he follows the international news avidly as much as he can. I felt pretty ashamed for not following the news closely at all myself, and for not educating myself more about Burma before I came. (And, hell, after.)
It was one of those moments where I had the totally cliche thought about taking for granted all the freedoms we have in America. Not to worry, I followed it closely in my mind with, "BUT those freedoms are always at risk, aren't they? BUT I have to guard carefully against attempts to make my speech and opinions less free, even if it's in the name of security! And isn't the 'free' press all owned by big, evil corporations anyway? And the NSA is probably reading my blog at this very moment! BUT America actually sucks in many ways and just provides a sham image of freedom--and don't get me started on justice!" So, you know, that way you could tell I have a college education.
Back to my train ride. I've never felt trains that bumped in so many directions as this one--vertically, horizontally, diagonally, bone-chatteringly--but the scenes of fields and villages, mountain passes, and finally Inle Lake glimmering in the distance made it all worthwhile. I even glimpsed a little boy riding a water buffalo, which was quite a comical sight given how tiny the boy was compared to the huge animal. It looked like he was having a ride at least as wild as my train ride.
Once I arrived at Inle Lake, I did what all tourists do and took a boat ride. I had two favorite stops along the ride:
1. Indein
It's a town on the shore that is crawling with two things: tourists and pagodas. The pagodas are amazing--it's an unruly forest of them, some that look like ancient ruins and some that are currently under construction, all with lake and mountain views. I even found one being built by someone who now lives in California as a tribute to his parents. I spent hours walking around the town, along a river, and through the pagodas, and I found that even though there are a ton of tourists it was still possible to find some solitude just by taking less popular paths. For lunch, I went to the back section of the town market and found a small lunch shack/stall where I had delicious Shan noodles and got to play with the owner's toddler and watch kids and dogs run around.
2. Another village whose name I forget
I went on a rambling walk, where I was briefly befriended by a novice monk, invited to taste some sugar candy when I ran into a family stirring huge vats of boiling sugar cane outside their home, and nearly run over by two stringy-looking cows with bells on them--closely followed by their owner.
I also walked around the town where I was staying, near the lake, and encountered lots of adorable school children on their way home from school. Most just smiled shyly, some little girls walked across from me for a while and imitated me when I did funny walks, and one little boy asked for money. It was very interesting to see that just one boy had that reaction to the influx of tourists, compared to other places where a lot of children who aren't necessarily beggars will just ask you for money, knowing that tourists will give it. He just said, "Money?" and I said, "No!" and he said, "Present?!" I said no again but thought better of it and gave him a pen. Maybe he'll write a book about how tourists ruined his town--he'd have every right to. (On the other hand, it can only be a positive when a country is no longer forcibly closed to outsiders at the hand of a repressive government--right?)
It was interesting to be in a place that's just getting into the swing of a tourist boom. I noticed that when I went on boat tours of Inle Lake, the boat driver would pull close to the fishermen who are famous for paddling with their feet. It always happened right when we entered the lake. There would be several fishermen there, and the boat driver would turn off the motor--so as not to scare the fish? to give me time to take a picture?--and stay still for a few minutes while I took pictures.
But on my second trip, I didn't need to take pictures, because I already had on the first trip. The driver seemed uncomfortable and confused by this so I took some just to put him at ease. (Silly, I know.) It's also hard and makes your boat captain very unhappy when you say that you do not want to do shopping on your boat trip. After being taken to an (admittedly kinda cool) floating silver workshop, I insisted that I wanted to do NO SHOPPING and really just wanted to see the sights, much to my boat captain's chagrin and bewilderment. It seems to be a built in part of the tour, probably with some sort of kickback system or at least system of boat captains taking you to their friends' shops, so it really is disruptive not to play along. But I didn't want to.
Another thing I saw that made me think:
I went to an island that was basically occupied only by a Buddhist temple and some hawkers outside. It was very ornate and there were large, golden statues in rooms at each entranceway. Dozens of women were prostrating themselves just outside these rooms, looking in, behind signs that said, "No women past this point." Men walked past the signs to pray. It really put into sharp relief the utter sadness and ridiculousness of women bowing down to and being the driving force behind religions--like, most of 'em--that actively exclude and degrade them. Or what about on a larger level? How many women serve organizations or companies that don't really value their contributions?
On a lighter note, I also went to a hot spring for the first time ever. That was on my bucket list. And this one had a view of the mountains, I was the only customer for the first hour, it was super cheap, and I got to have an avocado salad. This sounds very spoiled. Not denying it.
Miscellaneous photos:
Readers, I'm going to confess to you a weird hang-up I developed. At first I was too overwhelmed to write about my post-grant travels because I was so excited to be home and it was Christmas and I was running around seeing family and friends. Then, when things calmed down a bit, I started to feel like there was too much to write and that it would be an overwhelming task. Then I started thinking that maybe I should wait to write this until I had a full-time job lined up. I don't know why, but it became a weird talismanic way of thinking. I'm happy to report that I start a full-time job next week, so I decided to finally stop putting off writing this. It's going to have to be a whirlwind overview, though I'm sure I'll still find places to be longwinded.
Let's make this part 1: Burma.
I went to Burma by myself for 5 days. I was only able to visit one area called Inle Lake, which is quite heavily-touristed. To get there from Rangoon/Yangon, though, I took a breathtakingly scenic train ride that took over 24 hours. For most of the trip, I was the only tourist aboard the train. For one leg of the trip, I sat next to a kindhearted engineer who spoke limited English but was still eager to talk to me and to help me order from the shockingly good onboard dining service. He smiled at me with disconcertingly beet-red teeth from chewing betel nuts and asked me if I knew who the woman pictured in his open newspaper was. I knew it was Aung San Suu Kyi, but I feigned ignorance out of paranoia about being lured into a political discussion in an infamously repressive country. All he said to me was, "It's Aung San Suu Kyi. This woman is our heart. The Burmese people, she is our heart." Later, I met a restaurant owner who had posters of Aung San Suu Kyi hanging on his walls. He told me that he felt he could express himself more freely in his country now, and that he'd been imprisoned in the past for being involved in pro-democracy groups. He said I was lucky that I could travel and say whatever I wanted. He said he thought America was a good country (a very rare opinion to encounter on my travels). He confided in me that he follows the international news avidly as much as he can. I felt pretty ashamed for not following the news closely at all myself, and for not educating myself more about Burma before I came. (And, hell, after.)
It was one of those moments where I had the totally cliche thought about taking for granted all the freedoms we have in America. Not to worry, I followed it closely in my mind with, "BUT those freedoms are always at risk, aren't they? BUT I have to guard carefully against attempts to make my speech and opinions less free, even if it's in the name of security! And isn't the 'free' press all owned by big, evil corporations anyway? And the NSA is probably reading my blog at this very moment! BUT America actually sucks in many ways and just provides a sham image of freedom--and don't get me started on justice!" So, you know, that way you could tell I have a college education.
Back to my train ride. I've never felt trains that bumped in so many directions as this one--vertically, horizontally, diagonally, bone-chatteringly--but the scenes of fields and villages, mountain passes, and finally Inle Lake glimmering in the distance made it all worthwhile. I even glimpsed a little boy riding a water buffalo, which was quite a comical sight given how tiny the boy was compared to the huge animal. It looked like he was having a ride at least as wild as my train ride.
Once I arrived at Inle Lake, I did what all tourists do and took a boat ride. I had two favorite stops along the ride:
1. Indein
It's a town on the shore that is crawling with two things: tourists and pagodas. The pagodas are amazing--it's an unruly forest of them, some that look like ancient ruins and some that are currently under construction, all with lake and mountain views. I even found one being built by someone who now lives in California as a tribute to his parents. I spent hours walking around the town, along a river, and through the pagodas, and I found that even though there are a ton of tourists it was still possible to find some solitude just by taking less popular paths. For lunch, I went to the back section of the town market and found a small lunch shack/stall where I had delicious Shan noodles and got to play with the owner's toddler and watch kids and dogs run around.
2. Another village whose name I forget
I went on a rambling walk, where I was briefly befriended by a novice monk, invited to taste some sugar candy when I ran into a family stirring huge vats of boiling sugar cane outside their home, and nearly run over by two stringy-looking cows with bells on them--closely followed by their owner.
 |
| Look out for cows! |
 |
| Hey, sugar. |
 |
| "Warmly welcome and assist tourists." = propaganda campaign to make tourists forget what really goes on in Burma? |
It was interesting to be in a place that's just getting into the swing of a tourist boom. I noticed that when I went on boat tours of Inle Lake, the boat driver would pull close to the fishermen who are famous for paddling with their feet. It always happened right when we entered the lake. There would be several fishermen there, and the boat driver would turn off the motor--so as not to scare the fish? to give me time to take a picture?--and stay still for a few minutes while I took pictures.
 |
| Obligatory. |
Another thing I saw that made me think:
I went to an island that was basically occupied only by a Buddhist temple and some hawkers outside. It was very ornate and there were large, golden statues in rooms at each entranceway. Dozens of women were prostrating themselves just outside these rooms, looking in, behind signs that said, "No women past this point." Men walked past the signs to pray. It really put into sharp relief the utter sadness and ridiculousness of women bowing down to and being the driving force behind religions--like, most of 'em--that actively exclude and degrade them. Or what about on a larger level? How many women serve organizations or companies that don't really value their contributions?
On a lighter note, I also went to a hot spring for the first time ever. That was on my bucket list. And this one had a view of the mountains, I was the only customer for the first hour, it was super cheap, and I got to have an avocado salad. This sounds very spoiled. Not denying it.
Miscellaneous photos:
 |
| Note the small chicken on the walkway. |
 | ||
Floating village.
|
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